


The Lucky One

by veritas_st



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: M/M, Military!Derek, mentions of past character death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-20
Updated: 2014-07-22
Packaged: 2018-01-09 10:05:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1144690
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/veritas_st/pseuds/veritas_st
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek makes it through Afghanistan with a picture of a stranger in his back pocket.  </p><p>After getting home he decides to find the stranger and thank him for keeping him alive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Far From Home

**Author's Note:**

  * For [cuikune](https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuikune/gifts).



> Based loosely on the movie The Lucky One. For a prompt from wolfsbanecookies on Tumblr who wanted military!Derek. This kind of spun out of control!

_You squint against the bright sunlight._

_There is the sound of children playing. So normal, so familiar._

_But this isn’t home._

_The sand moves beneath your feet, the crackle of a radio in your ear. Your rank, name, static and then nothing._

_You push the radio to your throat and speak, words rasping in your dry throat._

_Nothing._

_You frown, squint up at the sky again and smile vaguely at the dusty children on the side of the road._

_Everything slows, the children quiet and even now you know this is a dream, you know what’s coming next and you struggle to wake. Noise stops, everything stops. All you can hear is your breathing and then heat explodes behind you, dust, debris, shrapnel flies past your face as you land in the alien sand._

_This isn’t home. It’s so far from home and the bomb makes your ears ring. You manage to turn, to look at the building that used to house your unit, your friends,_ brothers _, and see nothing but flames._

Derek wakes with a jolt, sweat streaming down his skin, his chest heaving as he struggles to rub the imaginary sand from his eyes. The sound of children screaming still echoes in his head and Isaac, his Siberian Husky, lifts his head from the foot of the bed. Isaac cocks his head to the side and Derek scratches between his ears. 

“It’s ok,” he mutters as he stands. More to himself really because Isaac is already back asleep, breathing heavy with his head on his front paws.

Derek can still taste the cordite on the back of his tongue, the ringing in his ears. He scrubs a hand over his face and sighs, his shaky hands reaching for the bottle of scotch that sits on his cabinet the other side of his bedroom. He pours a slug and tips it back, the burn of the alcohol anchoring him to the here and now. Rather than the there and then. 

He lost most of his unit that day, and some others from another unit. A rescue mission along the streets of Hajitori Kalay, Helmand province, Afghanistan, where another unit had been shot by snipers the day before, one taken hostage, turning into the worst day of Derek’s life. The entire tour, his second, had been terrible, the Godforsaken country was hot, dusty. So far away from home that Derek had felt the ache of his family like a hole in his chest. Long moments of boredom intersperse with snatches of sheer terror. The thoughts that none of them would ever get to see US soil again. 

Derek pours himself another drink and sits back on his bed, staring out at the very early morning sky, the grey-pink tendrils finding their way through the black sky. 

Hajitori Kalay had been worse than in Lashka Gah, and that had been bad enough, even with the added bonus of the British troops there. Derek had spent a few weeks in Lash before being shipped out with the rest of his unit to Hajitori. And it had been that mission, four months in, that had turned his world upside down. 

Derek was under no illusions that he was suffering. He heard Laura talking to his nurses about PTSD, asking in low voices what she could do to help. Derek was under no illusion that no one could help. He remembers screaming the whole house down the first night he was here, Laura’s kids looking at him wide eyed across the breakfast table the next morning. 

Derek knocks the rest of the Scotch back and clicks his fingers at Isaac. Isaac moves, slides off the bed without so much as a rustle of sheets and noses Derek’s outstretched palm. 

“How about a run buddy?” 

…

He runs until he can’t feel his legs anymore. Until he can’t hear the sound of the bomb, the screaming of the children on the side of the road. He runs until the sun is high enough in the sky that he knows Laura and the kids will be awake. 

Isaac’s still bounding around his heels as he makes his way down the street to Laura’s house, waving absently at her nosey neighbour who Laura tried to set him up with a few weeks back. 

Laura’s in the kitchen by the time Derek gets back, the smell of coffee and pancakes filling the house with the love he knows Laura wishes he would feel. He presses a kiss to her cheek over her shoulder and snags a strip of bacon. She rolls her eyes fondly, wrinkles her nose at the sweat on his shirt and shoves coffee into his hand. Derek leaves Isaac outside and makes his way to the shower. 

He’s pulling a t-shirt, soft and worn, over his head when he catches sight of the photo. Old and worn, just like the t-shirt, sticking out from under his pillow. He sits on the edge of his bed and pulls it out. Sees the familiar grinning face scattered with moles, a streak of wildness running through the large ambers eyes. He runs his fingers over the photo and turns it over. The familiar handwriting is on the back, scrawling and untidy, but Derek finds himself fond of it all the same. 

“Don’t forget us, you Big Damn Hero, Stiles (and Allison)”

Derek has always assumed that the reason big, damn and hero are capitalised is because of an inside joke and wonders about the kid that wrote it. Large amber eyes with a full mouth, short buzz-cut hair shorn close to his scalp. The other person in the photo is Allison, or so Derek assumes, startlingly beautiful with dimples to die for and long curled dark hair that falls over her shoulder. Derek only has eyes for the awkward kid in the Batman t-shirt though. 

The photo saved his life. Back in Hajitori he’d been on guard, outside the front door of the building that contained his unit when he’d seen the picture, half buried in the sand a few meters in front of him. Picking that picture up had been what had saved his life, moving him far enough away from the blast to keep him alive. The fact that he had, for all intents and purposes, abandoned his post meant nothing to anyone investigating. Just told Derek he had someone up there looking out for him.

The photo had stayed with him ever since. 

…

“I’m think I need to go,” Derek says at breakfast. Tyler, Laura’s son of 10, looks up from his Cheerios. 

“Where?” Laura asks absently as she cuts banana into small rounds for Audrey, Tyler’s 3 year old sister. 

“Away,” Derek mutters, “I…” 

“Derek, this is your home,” Laura sits down next to him, her hand warm and solid against his shoulder and no matter how much he wants to stay, no matter how much he loves Laura and her family, he cant keep putting this burden on them. 

“No Laura, it’s _your_ home,” Derek says and Laura flinches, sits back in her chair. 

“Tyler, go help your sister get ready for school,” Laura frees Audrey from her chair and Tyler takes her hand and wanders off to their bedrooms. “Derek, don’t you do this to me, ok. You belong here.” 

“I could have killed Tyler the other day,” Derek says, wincing as he remembers the look of sheer terror on the kids face. 

“That idiot woke you up by shooting his toy gun in your room, of course you nearly killed him. I would have nearly killed him.” She smiles a little, trying to coax one out from him but Derek just runs a hand over his face. 

“I _need_ to Laura,” he tries again and Laura sighs, throws her arms around his neck and pulls him in for a hug. She smells like home, and family, but it’s not his home. 

“It wasn’t your fault,” she says quietly and lets him go. Derek doesn’t reply because he can’t. Because it was his fault, if he had been at his post…

“You would be dead,” Laura speaks as if reading his mind and Derek’s pretty sure she can actually do that at this point. “If you had been with them, where you were meant to be, you would be dead too and I can’t…I can’t bring myself to blame you for being alive Derek.” 

“Laura…” 

“You’ll keep in touch?” Laura asks suddenly, leaning back against the kitchen counter. Derek nods and Laura lets out a sad laugh. “Liar.” 

…

“Stiles?” Stiles stops whisking the pancake mix and smiles to himself. 

“In the kitchen,” he calls back and Allison appears a few seconds later, looking a little bit harassed, with Erica in tow. Erica’s dressed in pink today, no surprise there, and her blond wavy pigtails are immaculate. She grins and races across the kitchen to Stiles, who catches her with an exaggerated “oomph”. She giggles and Stiles picks her up and shifts her to his hip. He shoves the whisk into her hand and looks at Allison. 

“All day?” He asks and Allison sighs, snatching a half-finished mug of coffee from the table and swallowing it down. 

“I love you,” she says and kisses him on the cheek. He groans and wipes it off for Erica’s benefit. “I got an extra shift, can’t really turn it down,” she shrugs a little and Stiles deposits Erica onto the counter. 

“Stay,” he points a finger at her and she nods. Stiles curls his fingers around Allison’s elbow and steers her to the front door. “Of course you can’t, go, and we’ll see you later…we’ll have fun wont we Erica?” He shouts down to the kitchen and hears the unmistakable noise of a whisk hitting the tiled floor. Allison cringes and Stiles pulls her into a hug. “Go.” 

“Thank you.” Stiles waves his hand like its nothing and shuts the front door. 

Honestly, it is nothing. He loves Erica like a daughter. Being her Godfather helps, he supposes, but also because Scott was more than just his best friend. Scott was basically his brother, technically his step-brother. His dad married Melissa when they were both 17 but they’d been brothers for longer than that.

Scott had joined the military fresh out of High School and married Allison after his first tour in Afghanistan when they were 22. They’d had Erica when they were 23 and now, aged 28, Allison was a widow, with a 5 year old. Allison had lost her husband, Stiles had lost his brother. And they had cried together and moved on as best they could. 

His dad and Melissa were still in town and Stiles had bought the kennels, backing onto the Veterinary surgery once he hit 21 and his mother’s life insurance policy had come to him. He loved this place, the sprawling run down house, the vast expanse of land, and the kennels. His life is looking up, after losing Scott and more than a few bad choices in the love life department. 

Erica calls for him from the kitchen and he finds her with her legs swinging off the counter, covered in pancake batter. 

“What did you do?” He asks, his hands on his hips and Erica grins sheepishly. 

“Ooops.” 

…

Derek’s been walking for a week. Literally. He packed up the few meagre things he had, the photo in his back pocket, kissed Laura goodbye, gave an empty promise to call every week and walked. 

Isaac’s been a constant source of companionship, never pushing, never asking if he’s ok, never asking how he’s feeling, never avoiding his gaze like he doesn’t know how to deal with PTSD. Derek sighs and lifts his hand to Isaac’s head. He scratches behind one of his ears and Isaac wags his tail against Derek’s leg. 

Derek pulls out the photo and turns it over, the familiar handwriting making him smile briefly. There’s a Post-It stuck to the back, _Beacon Hills, CA_ written in his own hand. The ‘Bea’ of Beacon Hills Police Station had been cut off from the edge of the photo but a couple of hours on Google and Derek had tracked down the town. He felt he needed to see these people that saved his life, no matter how little he thinks of his life right now. He owes it to whoever had the photo to give it back. Derek runs his thumb across the freckled face on the photo and sighs again. 

Sometimes he talks to Stiles in his head, holding conversations about his day, how he’s feeling. Sometimes he thinks Isaac and Stiles are the only ones who really know him. 

He’s mulling over that pathetic thought as he drifts off to sleep with the stars overhead and Isaac snoring softly next to him. 

…

Erica squeals in glee as Stiles puts his thumb over the tip of the hose and sprays it at her. 

“Stiles…” She giggles and hides behind one of the dogs, a large, gentle St Bernard who looks at her briefly then focuses back on her own issues. 

“Oh no, Erica…” Stiles feigns worry and Erica sticks her head out from behind the St Bernard. 

“What?” 

“I think…oh no, yeah, I’m right…” Stiles looks down at the hose which has now magically stopped spraying water. Erica steps out from behind the dog and takes a step towards him. 

“What?” She says again and Stiles just shakes his head. 

“I’m so sad, it’s broken,” Stiles whines and Erica takes another step towards him, close enough for… 

Erica squeals again as Stiles let’s go of the kink in the hose and turns it back to her. The hyperactive Jack Russell from down the road jumps in excitement and Erica runs around the garden, her pigtails dripping as she laughs. 

Stiles spies his dad, leaning against the door frame of the large French windows that lead to the kitchen, with a fond smile on his face. Stiles grins and shuts off the hose. 

“Grandpa Still,” Erica shouts and rushes over to him. John pats her head affectionately and allows Erica to tug on his pants with her wet hands. 

“The water monsters got me,” Stiles hears her saying and he snorts out a laugh. 

“Really?” John asks and Erica nods enthusiastically. 

“Yuh-huh and then I ran and hid,” she says and John looks up at Stiles. 

“Clever girl,” he pushes her gently towards the house. “Why don’t you go put some dry clothes on, there’s some of yours in Stiles’ room,” she nods and hops up the little step into the house and runs off, leaving wet foot prints across the wooden floors. 

“Allison’s working again?” John asks as Stiles picks up a brush and runs it through the St Bernard’s hair. 

“Yeah, got an extra shift. She works too hard,” Stiles says, pulling a clump of dog hair from the brush. John nods sagely. 

“And you don’t?” John asks and Stiles shrugs. 

“I learned from the best.” Stiles grins and John gives him his patented ‘good point well made’ look. “How’s the knee today?” Stiles asks at the same time as looking up at the sky. Clear blue, he notes as John pushes himself off from the door frame. 

“Good,” Stiles grins at him. “Stop guessing by the weather, you weirdo.” Stiles laughs and stands. “I invited Danny for dinner tonight.” Stiles groans, the grin falling from his face. 

“Urgh dad, why?” 

“Why? Because he’s a nice guy,” Danny works for the Sheriff’s department and John is about three months away from retiring. He should have gone a few years ago but Beacon Hills is a small town with hardly any crime to speak of and they love him. Danny started working there a few months back and John has been, not so subtly, trying to get them together. It’s odd to think of his dad setting him up with another guy, but then it’s John, who’s always been comfortable with who is son is. 

“Urgh I hate you,” he groans. John grins and wanders into the kitchen probably in search of coffee. “I don’t want to be set up dad.” 

“Do I look like I care?” John answers, staring into the coffee pot like he’s expecting to find the answers to the universe. 

“Are you and Melissa going to be here or is this an ambush for Danny?” Stiles asks and John dumps the remaining coffee into the sink and goes about fixing some more. 

“We’re going to be here,” John replies and Stiles sighs a little in relief. John and Melissa moved in a few years back after John got shot. Stiles lived in the huge house after all and Melissa still worked full time at Beacon Hills Memorial. Stiles had taken care of him and after Scott had died, he hadn’t wanted the silence of an empty house again. 

“You are a cruel man, dad.” 

…

Beacon Hills isn’t a big town. From the hill top above it Derek can see all of it sprawled out in front of him and he supresses the flutter of excitement in his stomach as he makes his way down into the town. He has no idea where to start but his feet are hurting and Isaac needs a break so he makes his way to the nearest bar. 

He ties Isaac up outside, more for everyone else’s benefit because he knows Isaac wont stray. 

The bar is a typical small town bar. Semi dark with some tune playing softly in the background. There’s an ancient TV hanging in one corner playing the local news and more than a few locals propping up the bar despite the fact its only 5 in the afternoon. 

Derek slides onto one of the bar stools and orders a whiskey, throws it down and grimaces slightly at the burn in his throat. It’s loud enough that he can pull out the photo from his back pocket and ask the bar tender about it. The guy behind the bar, probably mid-twenties, looks down at the photo and shakes his head. 

“No, sorry, but Jackson might know, he’s lived here his entire life, knows everyone,” the guy nods in the direction of the pool table where a well-dressed (casual but obviously good clothes) guy is grinning like he owns the place. Derek orders another whiskey and slaps some bills on the bar before moving on over to the pool table. 

Jackson’s winning, the guy he’s playing cant see that though but Derek can see the pool shark in Jackson a mile away. Jackson sinks another couple of balls and Derek watches as the guy he’s playing comes to the realisation that he’s lost. Jackson grins the shit eating grin again and pockets the money from the side of the table. 

“Listen man, I’m everyone’s type but you watching me is creeping me out so why don’t you go find someone else to stalk,” Jackson says, turning around to face Derek half way through his sentence. Derek raises an eyebrow and holds out the picture. 

“Actually… _man_ …I’m looking for this guy, you know him?” Derek points to Stiles in the photo and Jackson snorts. 

“Stiles, yeah, I know him. Unfortunately. Lives over on Beech Lane, about ten blocks north, owns the kennels down there, strange kid.” Jackson shakes his head a little and looks around the bar, “used to go out with an acquaintance of mine.” 

“Thanks,” Derek says and pockets the photo. Jackson nods absently and looks around for his next victim and Derek nods to the bar tender as he leaves. 

The bright sunshine outside is a welcome break from the dark bar and Derek blinks into the light. Isaac whines softly, eager to be free from his leash and Derek unclips him and clicks his fingers to get him to follow and heads North. 

…

“I don’t know how you do it,” John sticks his head round into the Kennel reception and Stiles jumps, looking up from his mountain of paper work. He frowns at his dad, he’s managed to avoid him all day. 

“How I do what? Stay so young and svelte?” Stiles looks back down at his paperwork with a smile. 

“How do you take a nice guy and find the only imperfection?” John asks, coming into the reception and laying his hands on the desk. Stiles wrinkles his nose and sighs. 

“Danny’s great dad, despite the fact that you are trying to get us together which immediately makes me want to run for the hills, by the way. He’s great but I’m not looking for anything right now. Especially not anything set up by my dad.” He points his pen at John and smiles a little. John glares the glare of a dad at him and sighs. 

“You’re impossible,” he says and Stiles shrugs. 

“Sadly though, you’re genetically programmed to love me so…sucks to be you.” 

“Scott wouldn’t want…” John starts and it’s the same old argument. ‘Scott wouldn’t want you to be a miserable bastard for the rest of your life.’

“This isn’t about Scott dad, ok?” Stiles interrupts. Losing Scott had been terrible and it had affected Stiles more than he thought possible. Scott had been his ally in everything for his entire life and suddenly, he was gone. It had taken Stiles a while to want to speak to anyone let alone think about dating again. He’d gone on one date since and had spent the entire evening getting drunk and talking about Scott. The date ended with the guy driving Stiles home and depositing him, crying like a baby, into John’s arms and running away so fast Stiles is pretty sure he can still see the skid marks on the road outside. “And before you say it,” Stiles says as John opens his mouth, “it’s not about Matt either.” 

John stares at him blankly, but Stiles knows that look, he’s seen it a thousand times before. It’s the look that says “I have no idea what to do with you.” 

“Matt was a dick,” John says and Stiles snorts out a laugh. 

“Yeah…he really was.” 

“Erica didn’t like him,” John says and Stiles shakes his head and laughs. 

“Erica doesn’t like anyone except us,” he replies and John nods. 

Just as John is about to open his mouth to speak again, a large Siberian Husky trots into the reception followed by one of the best looking men Stiles has ever seen in his life. John raises an eyebrow, dips to let the Husky sniff his hand and wanders out. 

“Hi buddy,” Stiles comes out from behind the desk and crouches. The Husky sniffs at him and then licks his hand and Stiles runs his fingers through the dogs coat. “Beautiful boy.” The guy clears his throat and Stiles pushes himself to his feet, and sticks his hand out. “Sorry, I have a habit of introducing myself to the dogs first. Stiles, how can I help?”

“Uh…Derek, and this is Isaac,” Derek gestures to the dog who sits back on his haunches and pants once. 

“He’s beautiful,” Stiles breathes as Isaac turns those gorgeous ice blue eyes towards him. “You looking for board?” Stiles goes back to the desk and pulls out the diary. “We do just day, or overnight as well, let me just…” he pauses and reaches over the desk to grab the price list, “here…” Derek looks blankly down at the sheet of paper in Stiles’ hand. 

“I don’t…” he starts and digs into his pocket to pull out his wallet, “I found this and I…” he pauses, obviously flustered and starts leafing through various bits of paper in his wallet. 

“Oh, of course, you saw our ad…well it’s not much, six days a week, long hours, pay isn’t great but it comes with a little house on the grounds. You look like you’re used to hard work though so…I didn’t mean you look weathered just fit…not that I was looking or…feel free to stop me at any time,” Stiles grins a little and Derek clears his throat again. Derek frowns and pushes his wallet back into his pocket and Stiles takes the time to look at him a little. He’s gorgeous, no doubt about it, but there’s lines of his face that belie his age, a weariness to his gait which makes him look like the world’s on his shoulders, a sense of quiet outrage at the world simmering just below the surface and an awkwardness to his manner that makes Stiles uncomfortable. “What are you doing in town?” Stiles asks to ease the silence and Derek shifts on his feet. 

“I was…uh…walking,” he says and Stiles frowns. 

“Walking? From where?” 

“Washington,” Derek says simply and Stiles nearly chokes. 

“You walked…here…from Washington? Why?” Derek shrugs and reaches down to absently scratch Isaac behind the ears. 

“I like to walk,” he says simply and Stiles nods. 

“You like to walk…would you excuse me for a minute?” Derek nods and Stiles back out of reception smiling his ‘I’m uncomfortable’ smile. John is in the kitchen and Stiles sticks his head round the door frame. “Dad…there’s a guy in reception and I can’t get rid of him.” 

“Who? The Adonis with the Husky,” John asks with a smile. 

“Ok you have got to stop calling good looking guys Adonis’s, or would that be Adoni? Never mind, just stop because it’s weird, but yes.” 

“Why do you want to get rid of him?” John asks and Stiles looks back to see Derek look over at him and nod. 

“He’s weird,” Stiles whispers and John snorts out a laugh. 

“You’re unbelievable…leave it to me.” John limps out of the kitchen and over to reception.

…

“Hi…John,” the older man sticks his hand out and Derek shakes it. 

“Derek…sir,” he says and John looks down at Isaac. “And Isaac.” 

“Hear you might be looking for a job?” Derek shifts again, uncomfortable but nods because he cant think of anything else to do right now.

“Yes sir.” 

“Military?” John asks, cocking his head to the side a little. John has an air of some sort of Military, perhaps law enforcement. Derek instantly likes him. 

“Marine, sir,” Derek answers and John nods knowingly. 

“Afghanistan?” 

“Two tours,” Derek says simply, a little briskly. He hates the pity people give him for that but John just nods again and reaches out over the desk and grabs a set of keys. 

“Semper Fi. We’ll see you tomorrow at 7 am, here are the keys to the house and you can get yourself sorted, it’s not much, could use a little work but I think you’ll be comfortable there.” 

“Thank you sir,” Derek says, holding his hand out for the small set of keys. John directs him across the grounds of the kennel to the house and Derek wanders how the hell he just got a job he wasn’t even looking for. 

…

“How did you get rid of him?” Stiles asks as John walks back into the house. Stiles watches Derek click at Isaac and heft his bag over his shoulder. 

“I gave him the job.” 

“What? Why?” Stiles follows his dad through to the kitchen and glares at him. 

“Because he’s nice, and probably needs a break and you need some eye candy to make you less grumpy.” 

Sometimes Stiles really hates his dad.


	2. Compos Mentis

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I don’t need protecting,” Stiles says suddenly, embarrassment at his helplessness powering his words and Derek looks at him. 
> 
> “I know.”

“Who’s the hottie?” Allison asks as she helps herself to coffee and Stiles is attacked at knee height by Erica. 

“Urgh,” Stiles groans and hands Erica a carrot stick from the piles he’s been chopping for the last ten minutes. “That’s Derek, dad hired him.” 

“What’s the urgh for?” Allison asks, snagging her own carrot stick and crunching down on it. “He’s gorgeous.” Allison gets the faraway grin on her face she gets whenever anyone vaguely good looking passes her way and Stiles taps her on the nose with a carrot. 

“He’s weird,” Stiles says. “He walked here from Washington.” 

“State?”

“No, he walked across the entire country from DC…yes, state.” Allison glares and Erica presses her little hands to the plate window in the doors leading out to the kennels. She leans her forehead against it and Stiles tracks her gaze out to Derek. 

“What’s weird about that?” Allison asks, going to stand next to her daughter. Erica leans her head against Allison’s leg and Allison absently runs her fingers through the soft curls. “He’s got good arms.” 

“Ok thank you. What are you doing here anyway?” Stiles asks and Allison leans down to drop a kiss to Erica’s head and wanders over to Stiles. “Working again?” He asks sympathetically. Allison grins. 

“Nope, just wanted to spend time with my buddy,” she nudges his shoulder and picks up a pile of chopped carrots and throws them into the chicken stew simmering on the oven. “It’s StewDay after all.” 

StewDay is something that Scott came up with after Stiles found an old cookbook of his mom’s and made everyone try the recipes. The chicken stew was the best according to him and everyone used to pile into Stiles’ then tiny kitchen and eat stew standing up with hunks of fresh bread. It was usually on a Tuesday night and Stiles smiles to himself thinking back on those days.

“Can I go play?” Erica asks from the French doors. 

“Sure sweetie,” Allison answers, stirring the stew, lifting the spoon and running her finger through the sauce. “Good stew. So…your dad tells me he tried to set you up the other night,” Stiles groans into his carrot peelings and glares at her. 

“Et tu Allison?” 

“Hey listen, we love you, is all.” 

“Yeah, yeah and I’m miserable and miserly by myself, I know.” 

“No, you’re wonderful by yourself and you need to share that wonder with someone,” Allison grins and tucks her hair behind her ears. 

“Right back at you, McCall nee Argent,” Stiles points his knife at her and nearly drops it at the sound of Erica screaming from outside. 

Allison and Stiles move fast, Allison’s mom instincts kicking in in a second and she’s outside before Stiles is and stopping dead in her tracks. Erica is smiling, grinning actually as Derek advances on her with a dog brush. 

“No,” she giggles and Derek wiggles the fingers on his free hand. 

“You need a brush,” he says and Allison laughs and crosses her arms over her chest. Erica bolts from where she was, across the lawn to Allison and hides behind her legs, breathless with laughter. Derek straightens and holds his hands behind him, dropping his head slightly. “We were playing…” 

“We were playing dog groomers,” Erica pipes up from behind Allison and Stiles stares between the both of them. Erica hadn’t smiled like that with anyone other than Allison, him, John and Melissa for a long time. Allison looks like she’s about to cry. 

“It’s Derek right?” She asks and Derek nods, holds out a hand and looks down at it before wiping it across his jeans and holding it out again. 

“Yes ma’am.” 

“Polite too,” Allison looks back at Stiles and winks. 

“Do you like stew?” Erica asks and Stiles nearly chokes. 

“Oh, honey I’m sure Derek has other things to do tonight,” he looks up at Derek imploringly and he swears he sees a hint of mischief in those green eyes. 

“I love stew more than anything else in the world,” he says to Erica and Erica grins and curls her hand around Derek’s and tugs him into the kitchen. 

“Guess he’s staying for dinner,” Allison says and nudges him again. Stiles glares at her one more time. 

…

Turns out Derek’s not weird. He’s quiet and says only things he deems necessary. He’s troubled and is probably suffering from PTSD if the way he jumps when Erica drops her plate is anything to go by. Stiles feels worse and worse the longer dinner goes on. Allison is completely sold on him, as is Erica who literally will not stop asking him questions. At the end of dinner she drags him off to show him her collection of wolf toys in the bedroom that Stiles keeps for her in the house. 

“I like him,” Allison says stacking the used plates at the table and bringing them through to the kitchen. 

“You would,” Stiles says dumping the plates into the sink and turning the tap on. 

“So do you,” she replies with a grin, “you couldn’t take your eyes off him all evening.” 

“Not true,” Stiles flicks soap suds at her. “I do feel bad for thinking he was weird though.” He rubs a cloth over one plate and stacks it in the drying rack. “I mean, he’s still a little odd, with those intense eyes and the walking here thing and the stoic brooding silence, I mean no normal person has a gaze that intense…it’s bizarre and what’s with the yes ma’am no ma’am…” 

“Thanks for dinner,” Stiles drops the plate back into the sink with a clatter and Derek’s leaning against the door frame. Allison snorts and cups Derek’s hands in her own. 

“Thank you for staying, and thank you for talking to Erica,” Derek looks uncomfortable and extracts his hands, shoves them into his pockets. 

“She’s a great kid,” Allison nods fondly and Stiles can feel his cheeks burning as he picks up the broken plate and dumps it in the trash. 

“You’re welcome,” he says and Derek flicks his gaze to Stiles. There’s amusement under the heavy gaze and Stiles wants to stick his tongue out at him. 

“I’ll uh…” Derek hooks a thumb over his shoulder and as if on cue Isaac barks from outside. “Thanks, see you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah…Oh my God I suck,” Stiles bangs his head against the doorframe and grimaces as he watches Derek walk across the grounds. 

“Yup.” 

…

“Well,” Derek says to Isaac as he’s lying in bed later, Isaac curled up at the foot of the bed with his head on his paws, “I think he like’s us.” 

Isaac looks up at him and Derek can see the “are you crazy” look in the dog’s eyes. 

…

Stiles doesn’t avoid him anymore. After the dinner he’s been pleasant, if a little distant and Derek still can’t find the words to say why he’s really there. It’s not just being around Stiles, its John as well, and Melissa, Allison and Erica as well. All of them, to a lesser extent Stiles, have made him feel welcome and like he belongs and he doesn’t want to lose that just yet. The work is good too, gives him enough time to think but not too much to think about anything properly. He still wakes with nightmares, covered in sweat with Isaac looking worried at him, but it’s getting less and less and he doesn’t want to lose that either. 

He sees Stiles most mornings, when Derek’s doing his morning run and Stiles is getting the dogs out for their walk. Stiles waves now instead of ducking his head and Derek wants to feel those hands on his skin. Stiles is beautiful in a way that is hard to explain. Derek can imagine Stiles skinnier, ganglier and less sure of his own limbs, but he’s strong now. Arms bulked up and body filled out and Derek wants to see what lies beneath those badly fitting t-shirts. In the photo he still drags out every now and then, Stiles had a rounder face, it’s now slimmer, more defined, cheekbones sharper but the bottom lip is still as full. 

He’s running his usual route through the woods at the back of the kennels and over the bridge across the river when he sees Stiles in the water. Stiles is laughing, being splashed by numerous excited dogs that are bounding through the water. He’s up to his knees and looks red cheeked like he’s been running himself. Derek leans against the bridge railings and Stiles stills when he sees him. 

“Morning,” Stiles says, a little breathless from laughing and running and Derek smiles down at him. “Isaac come.” Isaac looks at Derek briefly before bounding over the rest of the bridge and into the water with the other dogs. Stiles laughs again, and Derek wants to get in there with him. “You coming?” 

“No I…” Derek looks over in the direction of the kennels. Stiles nods. 

“I can bring Isaac back, if that’s ok?” He flinches as an over excited dog bounds past him in the water and gets him wet all over again. The sun catches the water and blinds Derek for a second. 

“If you’re ok with him?” 

“Ok? He’s perfect. Did you train him yourself?” Stiles asks and Derek nods. “Hmm…well maybe you can help me train the others?” 

“If you want.” 

“I want.” Stiles grins and blushes and wades through the water to the bank. Derek reaches it before he does and holds his hand out to Stiles. Stiles looks at it for a second before taking it and letting Derek help him out of the water. Stiles’ skin is cool to the touch from the water. 

“Ok, well I’ll see you at work.” 

“Will do,” Stiles tries to shove his hands into his pockets and fails with the wet shorts, he laughs at himself and Derek feels something in his chest tighten. 

…

Stiles sighs into his accounts. The Kennels aren’t doing badly, but they’re just about keeping afloat and it’s a constant strain on both him and his dad. And now with the added outgoing of Derek’s wages, meagre as they are…Stiles sighs again. 

The sun is setting behind him when he hears a knock at the back door and then it creaking open. 

“Stiles?” Stiles leans back on his chair and spies Derek, Isaac at his heels, keys to the kennels in his hand. 

“Hey,” Stiles calls and Derek looks at him down the short corridor. If Stiles wasn’t so graceful the look on Derek’s face would have made him lose balance. As it is, Stiles slams the front legs of his chair back down and stands, straightening out the kink in his neck as he walks around the table and leans against the door frame. 

“Just bringing these back, going to head out now, I’ll see you tomorrow,” Derek hesitates with the keys before lowering them to the kitchen table. 

“Have a drink with me,” Stiles says and Derek blinks, “I uh…I’m doing accounts and I’m bored so…save me?” Stiles smiles and Derek smiles back, an unfamiliar warmth spreads through Stiles’ stomach. 

There’s a long pause whilst Derek looks at him like he’s trying to decide if Stiles is joking or not and then Derek’s smile gets a little wider, his eyes twinkle minutely and he says “depends what you’re drinking.” 

Stiles lets out a small laugh and wanders back into the dining room. The house is large and most of it is still under dust sheets, all of Scott’s stuff still here from when Melissa cleared out her house to move in with them. Stiles can’t bring himself to look at it just yet. Derek takes in the dust sheets without a word and Stiles pulls a bottle of bourbon from the bottom of one of the cabinets. He shakes it a little at Derek who nods once. Stiles pours two measures into two glasses and passes one to Derek, ignoring the way his skin feels when Derek’s fingers touch him. 

He holds his glass out and Derek clinks his against it, keeping his eyes on Stiles as he takes the first sip. 

“Good stuff,” he says and Stiles nods. 

“Yeah well, if you’re gonna drink, you might as well drink well,” Derek laughs and pulls out one of the chairs. He sits with a grace that Stiles wishes he could have and Stiles follows suit. 

“Can I help?” Derek asks, looking at the spread of paper on the table. The professional part of Stiles knows he shouldn’t, Derek’s an employee, he doesn’t need to see the state of the accounts but the other side, the side that’s building a headache and is warming to the idea of Derek being in his life wants the company. But that side also doesn’t want to do accounts. Stiles shakes his head. 

“No, I’m done for the night, maybe tomorrow though?” Derek nods and leans back in his chair. “Tell me something.” Derek looks expectantly like he’s waiting for Stiles to elaborate. “What made you walk here? Why here?” 

Derek rolls his eyes good naturedly, “gonna call me weird again?” 

“I’m not besmirching your good name again, promise.” He holds his hands up and Derek laughs lightly, “just interested, is all.” 

“Interested,” Derek parrots, looking down at his bourbon. Stiles leans over and pours him another measure. 

“Yeah, I’ve gone past weirded out, now I am…intrigued,” Stiles stumbles across the last word and Derek smiles lightly, the one that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. He takes a sip of bourbon and sighs. 

“Ok then.” 

…

He talks for what seems like hours, Stiles listening, nodding, adding in words every now and then. He tells Stiles about signing up, about going to Afghanistan for the first time, about the soldiers he met out there, the brothers he made. He tells him about his unit being blown up, leaves the part about the photo out. He talks, until the bourbon is gone and there’s a pleasant buzz in his veins from the alcohol. He talks until he feels lighter and more than a little in love with the brilliant man sitting in front of him. Stiles doesn’t offer platitudes when Derek tells him about his unit, just leans forward and covers Derek’s hand with his own, long fingers curling around his and Derek shifts his hand to interlock their fingers together. 

They stay like that for a while until Stiles yawns, wide and long and laughs gently. 

“Sorry,” he says with a smile and Derek smiles back at him and thinks about kissing him. 

“I should go,” Derek gets up to leave and Stiles looks, for a second, like he’s going to object. “Thanks…for letting me talk.” Stiles shrugs like it was nothing and reaches out to touch him gently on the arm. 

“If it wasn’t you talking, it would have been me and I promise, no one wants that,” Stiles laughs self-depreciatingly and pulls his hand away. Derek’s skin burns where Stiles’ fingers were.

“I would,” Derek says without thinking but Stile blushes gorgeously and crosses his arms over his chest awkwardly with a smile that makes Derek’s stomach hurt. 

“G’night,” Stiles says eventually, tearing his gaze away from Derek’s and reaching past him to open the back door. Derek wants to linger, wants to pull Stiles close and breathe him in, wants to feel Stiles in his arms because he knows he’ll fit perfectly. 

“Night.” 

…

“Hey,” Stiles shudders at the familiar voice at the back door. He’s got his hands elbow deep in washing dishes and he looks up to see Matt standing in the kitchen doorway. He sighs and pulls his hands from the sink and shakes them and then rubs them against his jeans. 

“What are you doing here?” He asks, drying his hands on a dish towel. Matt grins the grin that Stiles fell in love with all those years ago. Now it does nothing but make him wary. 

“Wanted to see how you were doing,” Matt says, pushing himself off the door frame with his shoulder. Stiles frowns and steps back from Matt. 

When Stiles first met Matt he was charming, good looking, romantic in a way that Stiles wanted and needed back then. Scott had hated him but Stiles had fallen in love with the photographer, not knowing that Matt was actually a complete dick head and boarding on stalker material. He had gotten rid of Matt a year ago, just before they got the news about Scott and Stiles and Allison had dealt with it together. Stiles thinks Matt wouldn’t have been so good at dealing with it anyway. 

Matt has a habit of turning up whenever Stiles least expects or wants and right now, when Stiles was staring at Derek out in the yard, this visit is completely unwanted. 

“I’m fine, now you can go,” Stiles says and Matt steps forward again. 

“Stiles, come on,” Matt says and Stiles wrinkles his nose. 

“Don’t ‘come on’ me, Matt, ok? You’re not welcome here,” Stiles says, taking a deep breath and standing up a little straighter. Truth be told Matt scares him and it’s taken a long while for Stiles to think that is ridiculous. That no one should scare him like Matt does. 

“Stiles, I miss you,” Matt says, reaching out and curling his hand around Stiles’ wrist. Stiles tugs but Matt’s grip is stronger. 

“You’re hurting me,” Stiles says, curling his free hand into a fist, ready to fight if necessary, “let me go.” 

“I could ruin you in this town you know,” Matt says and that’s the Matt that scares Stiles. The one who’s mood changes in an instant and Stiles flinches. 

“Let me go,” Stiles tries again, tugging on his wrist. 

“I would do as he says,” comes a deep voice from behind Matt and Stiles looks over Matt’s shoulder to see Derek standing there with Isaac at his heels. Isaac growls a little, softly in the back of his throat. 

“Who the hell are you?” Matt tries to sound big and manly but just by looking Stiles can tell that Derek would flatten Matt if it came to a fight. 

“I’m the help, now let him go,” Derek says and there’s no arguing his tone. Matt lets Stiles go roughly and Stiles flinches as he rubs his wrist. 

“See you around,” Matt says as he swans out and slams the kitchen door. Stiles flinches again and sighs and Derek’s in front of him close enough to touch before he can even blink. 

“You ok?” Derek lifts his wrist and curls his fingers around it gently, thumb rubbing back and forth across his pulse and Stiles wants to kiss Derek all of a sudden. 

“Yeah,” he says, shaking his head a little and stepping back of Derek. Derek shoves his hands into his pockets. “Sorry about that. He’s a dick.” 

“Seems like,” Derek says, “a self-important dick?” 

“His dad’s the mayor and he thinks he owns this town,” Stiles shrugs, “bad choices, we all have them right?” 

“Is he always like that?” Derek asks as Stiles plunges his hands back into the soaping water, anything to keep him from pulling Derek close and feeling as safe and he thinks he would in his arms. Stiles’ hands shake a little as he pulls a plate from the sink. 

“More often than not,” he says and Derek leans back against the counter and crosses his arms. “He hit me once.” Derek snaps his gaze to Stiles, a flare of anger behind his eyes and Stiles feels his breath hitch in his chest. “Only once mind,” he says, laying the plate on the draining board. “Once was enough.” 

“Good for you,” Derek replies.

“Scott nearly killed him,” Stiles says quietly, his hands stilling in the water as he feels a bubble of hysteria threaten to pop in his throat. 

“I would have too,” Derek says back, just as quietly, looking up at the ceiling like he wants to look anywhere but Stiles. 

“I don’t need protecting,” Stiles says suddenly, embarrassment at his helplessness powering his words and Derek looks at him. 

“I know.” 

“Ok.”

…

He doesn’t need protecting, Derek knows that. He can see it in the way Stiles has made a life for himself. How he’s so fiercely loyal to Allison and Erica, how he looks after his dad. He doesn’t need protecting, but that doesn’t mean Derek doesn’t want to protect him. 

It also doesn’t mean that when Derek walks in on him mid panic attack a few days later that he’s not going to help him. 

Stiles is shaking when Derek finds him, backed into a corner with his knees up by his chest, his hands shaking against his temples and a scared looked on his face. 

“Stiles,” Derek sinks to the floor in front of him, “Stiles look at me.” Stiles struggles to focus on Derek, his breathing rapid and eyes wide and Derek does the only thing he can think of and cups his hands around Stiles’ face and kisses him. Derek can feel the moment Stiles comes back, he freezes in Derek’s hold and slowly wraps his fingers, still shaking slightly, around Derek’s wrists. Stiles’ lips taste like toothpaste and coffee and smells like fresh bread and warmth and Derek pulls away. “You with me?” 

Stiles lets out a shaky breath and nods once, his fingers still curled around Derek’s wrists. “I think so…you kissed me.” 

“Yeah,” Derek lets him go and sits back in front of Stiles, crosses his legs and looks down at his hands. “I thought it might shock you enough to bring you back.” 

“Scott listed me _and_ Allison as his next of kin. I didn’t even know you could do that,” Stiles says, his voice still a little shaky. “I got a letter,” he says as way of explanation and that’s when Derek’s notices the crumpled letter lying next to him. “It was friendly fire.” 

Derek’s chest hurts for the man in front of him and he reaches out and lays a hand on his knee. Stiles drops his head to his knees and rocks once. 

“Friendly fucking fire,” he says, sounding so small and helpless that Derek wants to pull him close and never let him go. He can’t think of any words to say as he watches Stiles lift his head and run a hand across his face with a sniff. “I thought it would be easier, you know? I thought knowing would be better but…” His hands shakes again and he looks down at his palms and Derek covers them with his own. 

“Hey,” he says it quietly, so as not to startle, and Stiles looks back up at him. 

“You didn’t need to see that, I’m…” 

“If you say sorry I will punch you,” Derek interrupts with a small smile and Stiles lets out a laugh, bright and surprised. “You should do that more often.” 

“What? Laugh? Tell me a joke then,” Stiles moves his hands under Derek’s and links their fingers together and Derek can feel heat spreading through his chest. 

“I…I’ll tell you one when we go out for a drink,” Derek says, boldly, surprising even himself and Stiles blinks. 

“Was that your way of asking me out?” It’s slightly teasing but there’s real surprise under his tone of voice and Derek wants to shout at him. Yes I’m asking you out, of course I am. Have you looked in the mirror recently? You got me through Afghanistan. I think I fell in love with your face before I even knew you and know I know you, I know I love you. 

“Yes,” he says instead, simple and efficient and Stiles smiles at him. 

“Ok.” 

“We might have to get off the floor though,” Derek says and Stiles huffs out a laugh and draws his hands out from under Derek’s. Derek gets to his feet and holds a hand out to Stiles. Stiles takes it and Derek pulls him to his feet. 

“Next time you kiss me,” Stiles says and Derek arches an eyebrow, “I was to be compos mentis.” 

“I think we can arrange that.”


	3. Tied To Their Moorings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I’m here because of you Stiles, I’m not going anywhere.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay folks, I lost my USB stick with this on it, good news is I found it though so yay!

This is one of those times that Stiles wishes Scott was still here. Allison wrinkles her nose at his shirt and Erica shakes her head. 

“Alright, you two aren’t helping,” he says and pulls his shirt off and throws it at Erica. She giggles and sticks her tongue out at him. 

“We are,” Allison says, twirling one of Erica’s pigtails around her finger absently. “That shirt looked terrible…It hides your shoulders…and your arms,” Erica nods along with her mother and Stiles glares at them both. 

“What shoulders?” 

“The ones you didn’t realise you developed in senior year when Ethan couldn’t take his eyes off you,” she says and kisses Erica on the top of the head and stands. She rumbles in his closet. 

“That’s bull…rubbish,” he says, glancing at Erica who sticks her thumb in her mouth and rubs the sleeve of Stiles’ discarded shirt against her cheek. 

“True,” Allison insists, her head in the closet and she holds an ancient t-shirt out behind her. Stiles takes it and glares down at it like it’s the t-shirts fault that he’s lumbered with two women who insist on running his love life. And one of them happens to be 5 going on 25. “A-ha,” Allison reappears clutching one of Stiles’ old flannel shirts and throws it at him. She tugs open a draw and pulls out some jeans that don’t really fit him anymore and throws those as well. “Ethan saw your shoulders and was hooked. Wear those,” she says, pointing at the clothes in Stiles’ hands. 

“Ethan? That’s ridiculous and these?” he says holding up the clothes, “I grew out of them in senior year.” 

“No, you grew _into_ them in senior year. Trust me.” 

“Yeah, trust mommy,” Erica says from the foot of the bed, swinging her feet innocently. 

“Whose side are you on?” Stiles retreats into his bathroom and pulls the old clothes on. The jeans are tighter than he’s used to and the t-shirt is worn and soft as he pulls it on. A dark marl grey that stretches across his shoulders, chest and arms. He glares at himself in the mirror and wonders briefly if Allison is planning on putting eyeliner on him. He wouldn’t put it past her. The old flannel softens the look and makes him feel less on show and more himself. He rolls the sleeves up and opens the bathroom door. Allison claps her hands once and rests her chin on her pointed fingers, grinning at him. 

“Perfect.” She twirls her finger in the air. “Turn around.” Stiles does and when he looks back Allison’s got her hands over Erica’s ears. 

“Your butt looks great, he’s definitely going to want a piece of that.” She lets go of Erica’s ears and Erica cocks her head to the side. 

“What do you think Catwoman?” Stiles asks, using his nickname for her. She nods. 

“Nice.” 

“I look like a hipster,” Stiles whines just as he hears his dad greet Derek downstairs. “Well, there’s no turning back now.” 

“Like you’d want to. Get your cute butt down there and…” Allison covers Erica’s ears again, “go get laid. For me?” She sticks her lower lip out and Stiles rolls his eyes. 

“If you have to live vicariously through me, I pity you,” he kisses her on the forehead and she pats his cheek. 

“I pity myself,” she replies with a laugh as Stiles kisses Erica. 

“Have a fun playdate,” Erica says and Stiles raises his eyebrow at Allison. 

“What?” She asks innocently, “let’s hope it’s a playdate.” 

“I hate you both.” 

“You love us,” Erica calls after him. 

…

Derek’s not nervous, not in the slightest. Nope. 

Isaac looks at him from across their tiny house with what looks like a knowing expression on his furry face. 

“Ok fine,” he concedes and Isaac lays his head back on his paws. His eyebrows twitch as his eyes follow Derek around the room. “Maybe a little.” 

He’d surprised himself when he’d asked Stiles out for a drink, but he does feel like they’ve been dancing around mutual attraction for the past couple of weeks. Well, at least he hopes they have. Stiles is better than he ever would have thought. Smart and amusing, driven and passionate. He’s beautiful in a totally non feminine way that has Derek thinking about him when he probably shouldn’t be thinking about his boss. He wants to keep Stiles safe, from that dickhead ex, from any more pain about Scott, from anyone that wants to hurt him ever. 

He shakes his head a little and fishes the photo that led him to Stiles out from its hiding place in between two books on his rickety bookshelf. Stiles’ face beams from the photo, a little faded now, but the smiling, much younger face still has the capacity to make Derek smile. 

He feels alive here, here in Beacon Hills with the woods and the river, with the dogs and John. With Stiles. He feels that he can breathe here and hasn’t had a nightmare for months. He puts the photo back and shoves his wallet into his pocket. 

“Stay here,” he says to Isaac who blinks at him and Derek shuts the door. 

The walk over to the main house isn’t long, across a field, over a stile and through the kennels and Derek’s frozen with his hand poised to knock before he realises. 

John saves him from having to knock by pulling open the door with a wry smile. He nods inwards and Derek follows him through. 

“You want ‘the talk’?” John asks and Derek looks up at him. 

“No Sir. I wouldn’t dream of hurting him,” he says simply and John nods. 

“I know, that’s why I offered it instead of just giving it,” John smiles and claps him on the shoulder. “He’s getting fashion advice from a five year old.” 

“That should work out well,” Derek say dryly and John laughs. 

“Have fun. Have him back by midnight…I have a gun.” He says it with a smile and Derek smiles back. 

“Oh my God dad, stop it,” Stiles’ voice comes from the top of the stairs and Derek’s breath catches in his throat like some horny teenager in a teen movie. John nudges him. 

“Yeah, you definitely don’t need ‘the talk’.” Derek can’t even spare him a smile as Stiles bounds down the stairs. Stiles’ jeans are tighter than normal but Derek thinks he should wear them that tight from now on. His t-shirt stretches across his chest and the flannel over shirt looks soft enough to touch. 

“Hi,” Derek says and Stiles smiles a little. 

“You ok? Dad didn’t threaten you?” 

“He doesn’t need to,” Derek replies and Stiles blinks up at him like he has no idea what Derek means. “Let’s go.” 

…

“You owe me a joke,” Stiles says a few hours later. He’s feeling breathless with laughter and more than a little pleasantly buzzed and Derek looks panicked for a second. Stiles laughs again. 

They’re in the little bar by the harbour, the boats bob tied to their moorings and lights reflect off the surface of the water. Stiles leans forward and presses his hand to Derek’s thigh. 

“Oh shit,” Derek says and Stiles laughs again. “Plus…I’ve heard you laugh more tonight than I have in the months that I have known you so…I think I’m off the hook.” 

“Four months, two weeks and three days,” Stiles says and Derek looks across at him. “Um…” He laughs and runs a hand through his hair and Derek drops his gaze to his mouth like he wants to kiss Stiles. Part of Stiles wants him too, the other part wants him to wait until they can get horizontal and naked before that happens. Because he’s pretty sure that once he starts kissing Derek, he wont be able to stop. “Not that I’ve been counting.” 

“Right, counting the days down till you can get rid of the weirdo?” Derek says and Stiles feels his cheeks flame. 

“Are you going to let me live that down?” 

“Not anytime soon, no.” 

“You’re mean,” Stiles sulks and Derek smiles an honest smile and not his usual one marred with sadness. “You should do that more often.” He says, mirroring Derek’s words from the other day. 

“What?” 

“Smile, you should do it more often.” Derek drops his gaze and Stiles throws the rest of his beer down. “Come on, I want to show you something.” 

…

Stiles fiddles with the radio as Derek drives. Stiles talks over the soft music, his voice even and happy, even if a little drunk but Derek nods and smiles along with him until Stiles points down a small side road leading through the woods. 

“You going to murder me?” He asks and Stiles looks blankly at him. 

“If I was, how would I answer that question?” He keeps his expression blank but Derek can see the twitch in the corner of his lips. He breaks eventually and laughs and Derek can’t help but laugh with him. “Just up here.” 

Derek pulls the clunking jeep into a small clearing and turns it off. “Where?” 

“Come on,” Stiles slides out of the jeep and rounds the front and pulls open Derek’s door. “Come on.” He says again, tugging on Derek’s hand. The woods are dark at night but the moon is full and filters through the leaves. Stiles ducks in and out of shadows as he wanders through the trees. He stops in front of an old looking tree with overhanging branches. “Scott and I made this when we were 12,” he says, pointing up at the small platform nestled between two branches. “We thought it was our castle.” Stiles reaches out and grabs one of the lower branches. A strip of skin shows between his t-shirt and jeans. Effortlessly he pulls himself up onto the first branch and then the second. “Come on Derek.” He calls down and Derek follows him into the branches. 

He finds Stiles sitting cross-legged on the small platform and he joins him, sitting in front of him. Stiles reaches up and touches something that looks like a rotting school book nailed to the trunk of the tree. 

“Scott built this,” he says running his hand over the platform, “I say we did but it was mainly him, whilst I say down there,” he points to the ground, “and quizzed him. One day I couldn’t find it and he’d nailed it to the tree. I was so mad at him.” He laughs a little and Derek reaches out to cup a hand around his face. Stiles leans into the touch. “I miss him.” 

“I wish I could have met him,” Derek says. 

“You would have liked him,” Stiles says and then covers Derek’s hand with his own and laughs. “Actually, you probably would have hated each other to begin with.” Stiles lowers Derek’s hand from his face but keeps hold of it. He clears his throat and looks across at Derek. “So I wanted to show you this,” Stiles looks to his left and points out through the trees. Derek follows his gaze and from here he could see the whole town laid out below. 

“Wow,” Derek breathes and Stiles shifts and uncrosses his legs, he dangles them over the edge of the platform. 

“I swear on clear nights like this…” Stiles stops and breathes in. 

“You can see forever,” Derek finishes for him and Stiles glances at him and brilliant if small smile on his face. 

“Exactly.” 

“Thank you for showing me,” Derek says and shifts next to him. Stiles nudges his shoulder gently. 

“Thank you for letting me get drunk,” he laughs and Derek can’t help himself. He reaches forward, awkwardly at this side angle, and kisses Stiles. Stiles breathes in with surprise but soon melts into it with a noise of content in the back of his throat. Stiles curls his fingers into Derek’s jacket and tugs, trying to get him closer and then pulls away with a touch of his tongue on Derek’s lips. “We should…” He starts and Derek moves away. 

“Yeah, sorry I shouldn’t have…” 

“No, I meant…” Stiles reaches out and smiles slightly. He swallows and takes a shaky breath in. “I meant we should get down from here and get horizontal and naked stat.” 

“Oh…” Derek feels words go out of him at Stiles’ boldness. This confusing puzzle of a man sitting in front of him, shakily getting to his feet on the precarious platform in the trees, has woven his way into Derek’s life. He was there long before Derek actually met him but now there’s no way Derek would be able to get him out, even if he wanted to. 

“Yeah…oh,” Stiles says with a smile as he climbs down from the tree and looks up at Derek expectantly. 

Derek climbs down with shaky legs and his lips still tingling from kissing Stiles. Stiles is waiting for him, leaning back against his jeep with his arms crossed and a smug smile on his face. 

“Come on Soldier Boy, I would have thought you were better at tree climbing,” he grins and Derek wraps his hands around Stiles’ face and kisses him soundly. Stiles melts into him, tugging on Derek’s belt loops to bring him closer and Derek pulls away to press his forehead to his. 

“Let’s go.” Much to his delight, Stiles seems a little unsteady on his feet and a little shaky as he nods and breathes out a “yeah ok.” 

…

“Drive faster,” Stiles says as Derek pulls the jeep onto the road. Derek snorts out a laugh and glances across at him. 

“Your dad’s the Sheriff, I don’t think that’s a good idea,” It’s Stiles’ time to laugh and he rests his hand over Derek’s on the gear stick. 

“He likes you…faster.” Derek puts his foots down and in no time, with Stiles running his hand up Derek’s thigh, he pulls up outside his tiny little run down cottage. Stiles smiles at it with a small smile and practically throws himself out of the jeep. Derek meets him at the front door and Stiles pulls him close. 

“I hope you have a bed inside that shack,” Stiles mutters as Derek slides his lips down his jawline. The stubble catches, burns a little and Stiles groans when Derek’s tongue soothes his skin. 

“Of a sort,” Derek replies, his voice nothing more than a rumble through Stiles’ chest. Derek pushes him back against the jeep, slides a hand up the middle of his back and pulls him impossibly closer. “Come inside with me.” Derek’s lips move against his. 

“Like you had to ask,” Stiles breathes, his hips moving of their own accord towards Derek. Derek slides a thigh between his and Stiles lets his head fall back. Derek doesn’t waste much time before sucking the skin of Stiles’ throat. “Fuck.” Stiles slides his fingers into Derek’s hair just as the light from two headlamps cut through the semi darkness of the trees. “Fuck.” Stiles sighs and Derek lifts his head but doesn’t let Stiles go. 

Matt’s car pulls to a halt and Stiles curses again as Derek’s hand twitches against his back. He pushes slightly at Derek’s shoulder but Derek shakes his head once. 

“Matt? What the hell are you doing here? Are you following me?” Stiles demands, pushing against Derek again. Derek relents this time but keeps an arm around him as if to lay claim. The thought ignites a spark of lust up Stiles’ spine. 

“I thought I would come get to know the guy who’s working with you,” Matt answers, crossing his arms and looking between Stiles’ kissed swollen lips and Derek’s obvious glare. 

“Bullshit,” Stiles spits out and Matt’s gaze darkens. 

“Should you be out at this time of night?” Stiles’ pulse jumps and Derek’s hand on his waist tightens. His blood boils in his veins. 

“I’m not a fucking child Matt, and I’m certainly not yours,” he practically shouts and Matt, annoyingly, laughs. 

“I’m just looking out for you, Stiles,” Matt says and Stiles scoffs. 

“Like you did when you hit me?” Matt’s demeanour changes in an instant. 

“You made me do that,” Stiles swears he hears a growl from Derek who lets him go and takes a step towards Matt. 

“You should leave…now,” he says, his voice taking on the tone that broaches no arguments. Matt doesn’t even flinch and Stiles has a sickening feeling he might throw a punch. He looks right past Derek though and straight at Stiles. Stiles reaches down and curls his hand around Derek’s. Derek squeezes once but doesn’t look back at him. 

“You loved me once Stiles, you can love me again,” Matt says, his voice going back to the soft tone he used to use on Stiles whenever he had been angry and was trying to apologise. Stiles feels sick. 

“No, never,” Derek squeezes his hand again and Stiles feels strength pulse through his body. “You’re a poison Matt, get out of my life and stay out.” 

“You’re going to throw us away for this guy?” Matt scoffs, “you know nothing about him.” Stiles takes two steps forward and keeps hold of Derek’s hand. 

“There was a time I thought I knew you, but I didn’t. The little I know about him is ten thousand time better that what I know about you. I don’t love you Matt, I’m not sure if I ever did, it’s over.” Matt stares at him, like he’s trying to decide what to do next, what lies to say to get Stiles to listen to him. Derek steps forward next to Stiles and Matt glares at him. 

“I will ruin you,” he says to Derek, pointing a finger at him before getting back into his car and driving off so fast his wheels spin on the loose wood floor. 

“You ok?” Derek asks, running his hands down Stiles’ arms. Stiles feels himself shaking and he shakes his head. Derek pulls him close and wraps him in his arms. “Hey…it’s ok, it’s ok.” 

Stiles lets out a shaky laugh. “I told you I didn’t need protecting.” Derek huffs out a laugh, his breath ruffling Stiles’ hair. He pulls back and curls a finger under Stiles’ chin. 

“I never thought you did. Shall I walk you home?” Stiles swallows against Derek’s fingers and looks up at his concerned face. He wonders why he ever thought this strong, trouble man in front of him was weird. He’s never felt safer with anyone. 

“No, I’m ok,” Derek raises an eyebrow. “I should go though…I..uh…” 

“Hey, don’t think of an excuse, you don’t need one,” Derek smiles and Stiles wants to sink in that smile.

“Why weren’t you in my life before he was?” Stiles asks and Derek clears his throat and looks a little uncomfortable. “Ok…I gotta go, but thank you for tonight, and we’ll um…continue what was started later.” Derek breathes in through his nose and the muscles in his jaw twitch. He looks like he wants to kiss the life out of Stiles and Stiles wants to let him. 

“There’s something I need to…um…tell you,” Derek starts, rubbing the back of his neck and then he sighs and runs a hand through his hair, “why I’m here,” he sighs like he’s irritated again, “I’m sorry I can’t find the words.” 

Stiles reaches out and runs a hand down Derek’s arm. “It’s ok, another time.” He smiles a little and Derek frowns, “after all, I’m not going anywhere.” Derek nods and twists his hands together. “Goodnight,” Stiles says and Derek clears his throat again. 

“Goodnight Stiles.” 

…

Derek runs a hand across his face as he watches Stiles sink into the shadows and then reappear by the house in the distance. Isaac whines from inside the little cottage and Derek sighs. 

“Shit,” he mutters, climbing the steps and opening the front door. Isaac darts out and runs off into the trees. Derek wanders inside and finds his whiskey. He pours a large glass and digs out the picture of Stiles from its hiding place. He sits on the top step outside, the trees talking to each other, the crickets in the distance and his whiskey and Stiles in his hands. Stiles’ younger face beams out from the picture and he looks up at the house as the lights turn out. 

Stiles is so much more than just a face in a picture now, so much more than just a fantasy of someone who kept him alive. Stiles is real and whole, and Derek’s felt him in his arms, he’s felt Stiles’ kisses and the way his hand shook a little, he’s felt Stiles’ breath against his jaw and he wants more. He looks down at the picture one last time and crumples it in fist. He doesn’t need it anymore, he wants the real Stiles. 

Matt had been an unwelcome guest tonight, and Stiles’ shaking body after he’d left had worried Derek. He had no idea what psychological damage Matt had done to Stiles during their time together, but if the way Stiles had shaken was anything to go by, it had been bad. Derek takes comfort though in the fact that Stiles is now willing to stand up to Matt. It doesn’t alleviate any worry of what Matt might do though. 

Isaac reappears from the trees and nudges Derek’s thigh with his nose. 

Derek downs the rest of his whiskey. 

“I’ll tell him tomorrow,” he says to Isaac. Isaac ignores him and wanders back into the cottage. 

Derek looks back at the house and wonders if he’s going to lose Stiles before he’s even got him. 

…

Stiles looks out of the kitchen windows and watches Derek haul Erica up onto the wall he’s sitting on. He sits her next to him and hands her half of his sandwich. Erica laughs at something and Derek leans back, his hands against the edge of the wall, one behind Erica to stop her falling back. Stiles smiles to himself and brushes his wet fingers over his lips. The water in the sink swirls as he drops his hands back in and runs the brush around the pan. 

Erica’s talking about something Stiles can’t hear, but he can see her small hands moving in front of her and Derek listening with an intent that makes Stiles loves him all the more. He realised last night when he looked back towards the cottage that he was hopelessly gone on Derek. Not only he’s quiet strength and his small smile, but the way he is with Erica. Erica retreated into a shell when Scott died, she didn’t really understand at the time but picked up from Allison and Stiles the sadness and has never really got through it. Erica laughs at something Derek says and Stiles stops washing up and rests his fingers against his lips again. He can still feel Derek’s against them, the rasp of his stubble, the feel of Derek’s thigh between his own. It worries him, what he feels for Derek, because Derek’s transitory lifestyle before he got here cant bode well for future relationships and Stiles cant get hurt again. He sighs as Derek runs a hand over Erica’s head. 

“I think that pan’s clean,” John says from the door frame and Stiles jumps and splashes water over himself. 

“Jeez dad, creep much?” He says and looks over to John who’s smirking annoyingly. 

“What you looking at anyway?” John cranes his gaze out, following Stiles’ and nods. “Aaaah, I see. The weirdo.” John laughs and Stiles wipes his hands on his jeans. “How was your date last night anyway?” 

“Firstly, it’s weird that you ask me that and secondly, it was great…until Matt showed up.” 

“I should have arrested him at the time,” John says darkly. “Or just fed him to the dogs, no one would have known. Or cared.” 

“Ok, creepy.” Stiles says and hands John a mug. John helps himself to coffee. “You didn’t arrest him because I asked you not to.” 

“And I still have no idea why,” John says, looking out at Erica and Derek again. Derek hops off the wall and picks Erica up. He spins her around and puts her on the floor and runs off with her laughing and chasing him. 

“Because it would have been more hassle than it’s worth. Anyway, I think he got the message last night,” Stiles says and John raises an eyebrow. 

“I’ve heard that before. So…how good was the date?” John changes the subject and Stiles rolls his eyes. 

“You are a pervert.” He sits down next to his dad and runs his hands through his hair. “I dunno dad.” He sighs. “He doesn’t strike me as the kind of guy to stick around.” 

“Seems to me Stiles, you’re looking for something perfect and the one person who can give you that, is right outside. Don’t find the bad in this one,” John cups the back of Stiles’ head. 

“Grandpa Still,” Erica pushes open the kitchen door and John turns in his chair and holds his arms out. 

“Erica Berica, come here sweetie,” Erica grins and lets John envelope her in a hug. “Where did Derek go?” 

“He said he smelled like dog so went to take a shower.” Erica wrinkles her nose and Stiles pushes himself to his feet. 

“Can you watch her?” Stiles asks and John nods. 

The outside shower was installed for Stiles to use to wash the dogs easily, but it’s also useful for humans as well, enclosed but large and Stiles hears the water before he sees Derek. Derek’s peeling off his shirt and Stiles, single-mindedly, walks straight up to him. Derek sees him just before Stiles steps under the spray and catches him and pulls him close. 

“Don’t leave,” Stiles whispers as Derek pushes him up against the shower wall. 

“Not going anywhere,” Derek looks confused but replies and kisses him. Derek has his hands pressed to the wall next to Stiles’s head and Stiles runs his fingers across Derek’s slick skin. The tips tripping over the dips in Derek’s muscles, the jut of his hip bone, and Derek groans as Stiles pushes his fingers inside Derek’s pants. “Here?” Stiles pushes him a little and manages to peel off his own wet t-shirt and reaches for Derek’s belt. He nods. 

“Now.” Derek groans again and pulls Stiles close, there’s a hint of restrain under Derek’s movements, a shake of muscles that want to move more and Stiles manages to get Derek’s pants down his thighs. There’s no way they’re going to be able to get the pants fully off and Derek laughs a little as Stiles grunts in frustration. Derek pushes forward back into Stiles’ space and runs his hands over Stiles’ chest, across his shoulders and down his arms. He curls his fingers into Stiles’ and lifts his hands over his head. He kisses Stiles there, like he means it, like there’s nothing in this world he’d rather do than kiss Stiles and Stiles arches towards him. The water is cool, but not cold and Derek manages to get Stiles’ jeans open and his hand inside. Stiles groans at Derek’s fingers around his dick, he strains against the hand around his wrists but Derek squeezes and twists his hand around his dick. He hears himself whine and Derek bites at the skin over his pulse. 

“What do you want Stiles?” He says, voice low over the noise of the shower and Stiles arches up into him again and Derek runs his thumb nail across the slit in his cock. 

“Want to touch you,” Stiles breathes against Derek’s lips and he feels Derek’s hand around his wrists loosen. Stiles reaches between them and curls his own hand and Derek’s cock and Derek rests his head against Stiles’. 

“Shit,” Derek lets out a shaky breath and lets Stiles’ stroke his hand up and down for a few strokes before he resumes his own on Stiles’ dick. Derek slips a hand behind Stiles’ head and cups the back of it. He kisses Stiles, slow and deep and twists his hand as Stiles does the same. Stiles wants this, he wants to stay here trading lazy touches and even lazier kisses until time stops but Derek has other ideas. He bats Stiles’s hands away suddenly and steps forward, curling his own hand around both his and Stiles’ dick. Stiles groans and runs his short nails across Derek’s back. Derek kisses him harder, fucking into his own hand, his dick sliding against Stiles’. 

“Derek,” Stiles breathes out his name and Derek groans. Stiles lifts his leg, wraps it around Derek, tries to get closer, can’t get close enough and Derek bites down on his shoulder. God Derek I…” 

“Come Stiles,” Derek growls out, lifting his head and staring into Stiles’ eyes. “Keep your eyes on me.” Stiles does just that, biting down on his lip as Derek twists his hand and slides his dick over Stiles’ again. Stiles feels his orgasm building at the base of his spine, his vision blurring at the edges as Derek kisses him one more time, kisses him through his orgasm as Stiles spills over Derek’s hand and his dick. 

Derek comes a few seconds later, his mouth Stiles over Stiles’, and then pulls away with Stiles’s name on his lips. 

Stiles lets out a little laugh and Derek pulls back enough to look at him. 

“Hi,” Stiles says and Derek laughs with him. 

“Hi.” 

“We should get out of these clothes,” Stiles says looking down at his sodden jeans and boots. Derek huffs a laugh again and wriggles the whole way out of his own jeans. 

“Isn’t that what you say _before_?” 

“Yeah, well I like to do things differently so get used to it,” Stiles says as Derek drops to his knees and tubs off Stiles’ soaking boots. 

“I intend to,” Derek says it like it’s a promise, staring up at Stiles from his knees in the shower, his hair dripping down onto his face and his lips red and swollen. Stiles steps out of his jeans and Derek runs his hands up Stiles’ thighs as he stands. 

“As much as I want to stay here I have work to do,” Stiles groans and lets Derek kiss him one more time. 

“Why did you tell me to stay?” Derek asks as Stiles fishes a towel out of the basket by the shower. Stiles throws it to Derek and feels the heat of embarrassment flushing his cheeks. 

“Because I want you to,” he says simply, wrapping the towel around his waist. 

“Why did you think I was going to leave?” 

“People leave,” Stiles shrugs and goes to walk past him. Derek reaches out and tugs him back, presses his chest to Stiles’ and curls his hands around Stiles’ face. He runs his thumbs across Stiles’ cheekbones. 

“I’m here because of you Stiles, I’m not going anywhere.” He presses a kiss to Stiles’ mouth and Stiles curls his hands around Derek’s elbows. 

“Good.”


	4. Where did he come from?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Why cant I get enough of you?” Derek asks with his lips moving gently against Stiles’.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am SOOO sorry about the HUGE delay in updating this. Real life has been crazy, but I think I am finannly in a place to come back to things. So anyway, here is chapter 4. Enjoy.

Derek blinks slowly awake, the dull ache in his bones makes him smile and he reaches out to finger the still warm sheets next to him. Through the mosquito net he sees Stiles, gloriously naked, fingering the books along his rickety shelves. 

Derek’s heart beats in his chest as Stiles’ fingers slide over the two books that hold the secret photo and breathes in when Stiles feels Derek’s eyes on him and turns with a smile that’s blinding in its honesty. Stiles crawls back through the net and settles himself over Derek. 

“Morning,” he mutters, nudging Derek’s nose with his own. Derek smiles and turns them over and stares down at him. 

“Hi,” Derek says and Stiles lifts a hand to his face. 

“I should probably get up,” he says and Derek groans and shakes his head. 

“Let’s _not_ go to work today,” he says, his mouth moving along Stiles’ neck. Stiles arches up into him, his fingers sliding down Derek’s back and Derek nips at his collar bone. 

“I hear you have a terrible boss so you should probably go to work,” Derek chuckles as Stiles’ fingers tighten against his hip, whilst the other hand slides down over his backside. 

“Keep touching me like that and I will tell my boss it was your fault I was late,” he says, his voice still thick and low with sleep and he feels Stiles relax under him. 

“I think he already knows.” 

…

“Oh my God, look at your face,” Allison grins at him as Erica waves briefly and goes off in search of Derek. Stiles glares at her. 

“Because I’m not in front of a mirror I cant really, so do pray tell…what does it look like?” Stiles ignores the knowing smirk as Allison helps herself to coffee. 

“Like the cat that got the cream,” she says cradling the cup in her hands and looking out over the kennels. Erica squeals in delight as Derek does something Stiles can’t see but he smiles to himself. “He’s so good with her,” Allison says and Stiles joins her at the window. “Good with you too by the looks of things.” She waggles her eyebrows. 

“Urgh, stop it,” he nudges her shoulder but cant help the smile that curls his lips. Allison laughs. 

“So, is this going to go the way of every other Stiles relationship?” 

“And what way would that be?” 

“Down the drain for some unknown reason that you fabricate to keep yourself from getting hurt,” Allison says and Stiles glares again. 

“I swear you and dad plot against me,” Erica squeals again and Allison, always with the maternal instincts, looks out over the kennels and smiles. 

“No we don’t, we love you is all,” she replies and Stiles runs a hand over his face. 

“I like him Alli, like _really_ like him,” he says and he can’t shake the feeling that this is all going to come crashing down on him soon. He sighs and Allison covers his hand with her own. 

“Like…” Allison grins childishly, “ _lurve_ him?” 

“Shut up,” Stiles curls his lip at her and she laughs. “That’s ok isn’t it?” Allison raises an eyebrow. 

“It’s better than ok.” Allison drains the last of her coffee. So…Erica’s birthday.” 

“Oh thank God we’re changing the subject.” Stiles sighs in exaggerated relief and Allison sticks her middle finger up at him. 

“She wants a superheroes party and she just wants you, me, your dad and Melissa and Derek.” Allison digs into her bag and pulls out her diary. 

“No friends from school?” Stiles asks, standing and getting the house diary off the hook above the sink. He sits back down and Allison spins her diary over to him and points at a date. 

“No, I’m worried about her,” she says seriously and worried and Stiles reaches out across the table to her. 

“She’s great,” he says, listening to her laugh outside with Derek. 

“You think that yeah, but the teachers think she’s withdrawn.” Allison sighs and shrugs. 

“Her dad died, what do they expect?” 

“A girly girl that likes pink and princesses apparently,” Allison frowns and Stiles huffs out a laugh. 

“That’s bullshit, we’ll give her the best superheroy-ist party ever,” Stiles jots down the date Allison pointed at in his own diary and grins across the table at her. 

“Superheroy-ist? Is that even a word?” 

“It is now,” Stiles stocks his tongue out. 

“Make way for the patient,” Derek walks into the kitchen with a sniffing Erica in his arms and a cut on her knee. Allison is on her feet in an instant. 

“What happened?” 

“I fell,” Erica says and keeps her hands curls into Derek’s t-shirt as Derek puts her on the counter. Allison reaches under the sink for the First Aid kit and Stiles busies himself looking at Derek. He feels Stiles’ gaze and turns his green eyes on him. He smiles gently, but it’s a smile that’s full of promise for later and Stiles feels his cheeks flame. 

“I’m sorry,” Derek starts and Allison claps a hand over his mouth. The smell of antiseptic fills the kitchen. 

“Not your fault,” Allison says with a small smile and then uncovers his mouth. 

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Come on kiddo, leyt go get you some new pants,” Allison hauls Erica off the counter and onto her hip. Erica waves at Derek as Allison wanders off to find her some new pants not covered in mud and blood. 

Derek runs his hands through his hair and Stiles rests his hands on Derek’s hips. 

“Hey,” Derek looks through his fingers at him and Stiles can see the smile crinkling the corner of his eyes. “Kids hurt themselves.” Derek winds his hands around Stiles, one large one, hot and strong against the small of his back as Derek tugs him closer. Derek nudges his nose against Stiles’ and kisses the corner of his mouth. His mouth travels down Stiles’ jawline and he runs his nose up the line of Stiles’ neck, breathing in and his arms tighten. Stiles feels his blood heat up in his veins and he lazily jerks his hips towards Derek. 

“Stop it,” Derek breathes against his temple, one hand still on the small of Stiles’ back, the other running through his hair. Stiles groans and shakes his head. “Not the time or the place.” 

“Is,” Stiles mutters but jumps when he hears the creak of the bottom stair and Allison talking to Erica. Derek grins at him, but there’s a hint of colour in his cheeks and a look in his eyes that says he wants to let go as much as Stiles does. Derek kisses the tip of his nose and pushes Stiles gently away just as Erica appears in the doorway, sporting a blue denim skirt and a large bandaid on her knee. She grins and points down at it. 

“Look!” Derek crouches down in front of her and rests his hands against her small knee. He smiles up at her. 

“That’s a big bandaid for a little girl,” Erica laughs and pushes his shoulder with a tiny hand. 

“Can we go play again?” Derek stands, throws Stiles a brief smile and takes Erica’s hand. 

“Stiles?” Allison asks, nudging his shoulder. 

“Hmmm?” Stiles replies, staring out at Derek and wondering when the hell he got so lucky. 

“If you don’t marry him, I will.” 

…  
In the early morning light Derek runs his fingers over Stiles’ shoulders, tracing over moles and a scar from falling off his bike years ago, Stiles hums blissfully in the back of his throat and smiles into his pillow. His face is smashed into the pillow, his hair a mess and there’s a bite mark on his shoulder that Derek presses his fingers into. Stiles hisses a little, shifts and Derek moves his touch down Stiles’ arm bent under his head. 

“Morning,” Stiles grumbles, his voice thick with sleep and Derek presses a kiss to Stiles’ shoulder before trailing his fingers down and along Stiles’ ribs. Stiles shifts again, a squeak escaping his lips as Derek presses into the soft skin between two ribs. “Rude.” Derek doesn’t say anything in return, just moves his fingers down over the small of Stiles’ back, down the curve of his ass. Stiles shifts again, pushes his ass out and Derek runs a finger along the crease between Stiles’ ass and thigh. Stiles whines in the back of his throat and Derek shifts downwards, his fingers running over the back of Stiles’ thighs, and presses his lips to the back of Stiles’ knee. Stiles hums again and sighs into his pillow. Stiles’ ankle fits between the circle of Derek’s fingers and he presses a kiss to the calf muscle. He moves back up, the back of Stiles’ knee, the back of his thighs, his thumbs running between the soft buttocks in his hands, Stiles shifts again and Derek sees the muscles in his back move under his skin. He lets his thumb brush against Stiles’ hole and Stiles bites on his bottom lip letting out a noise of pleasure. He leans down and blows a stream of air across the soft skin of Stiles’ hole and Stiles groans again. Derek’s lets his tongue dart out and lick at the skin and Stiles curses softly under his breath. 

Derek could stay like this for hours, eliciting sighs and noises out of Stiles, with the smell of Stiles filling his nostrils and the soft ache of sex burning in his muscles. But he pulls away and covers Stiles’ body with his own. Stiles opens up beneath him and Derek sinks inside his hot, tight body. Stiles moves, his thighs opening up and letting Derek in deeper and Derek reaches in front and curls his fingers between Stiles’. 

“I want to keep you like this,” Derek whispers into Stiles’ ear, his forehead pressed to Stiles’ temple. 

“I want that,” Stiles breathes back and shifts his hips, trying to find friction against the sheets. Derek squeezes his hands and pushes into his body. “Derek…” 

Derek presses his lips to the nape of Stiles’ neck and Stiles shudders beneath him. He comes like that, buried inside Stiles’ body with their fingers knotted together. Derek pulls out of Stiles’ body and turns him over, leaning down to kiss him and stroke him through his own orgasm. Stiles comes with his hands curls into Derek’s hair and a curse on his lips. 

Derek falls to the side and pulls Stiles close, kisses him slow and deep and Stiles runs his fingers along Derek’s jaw. 

“You should be kissed,” Derek says, pausing to kiss him again, “every day,” he kisses Stiles again, “every hour,” Derek cups Stiles’ face in one hand and tips it back with a thumb in the soft skin under his chin, “every minute.” Stiles breathes into the kiss and slides a thigh between Derek’s. 

“I have to go,” Stiles whispers, regret in his voice evident in the quiet of Derek’s small cottage. “I have to take Erica to school.” 

“Don’t,” Derek says and Stiles lets out a laugh and presses a kiss to Derek’s nose. 

“Got to,” Stiles wriggles out of Derek’s arms and pulls a t-shirt over his head. He looks back at Derek with a smile that makes Derek’s chest hurt with its brilliance. The guilt of the photo hiding not five feet from where they are eats through his blood stream and Stiles grins again. “There’s nothing more I would like that to spend the day right here,” he says and leans down to kiss Derek quickly. 

Derek wants to pull him back through the mosquito net and keep him there until time stops and the world ends around them. 

“I’ll see you later?” Stiles poses it as a question although he knows full well he’ll see Derek later, because Derek can’t stay away from him no matter how much he probably should. 

“Yeah.” 

…

Stiles spends most of the day with a smile on his face, a half, secret smile that Allison laughs at when she drops Erica off. 

Allison mentions the party again and tells Stiles about the piano recital that she wants Erica to do at the local church. Erica has been playing for a while, Scott wanted her to be musical and bought her lessons, Allison kept them up after Scott died. Erica hates playing in front of anyone though, despite Stiles and Allison telling her she’s good enough. 

Stiles tries to talk to her about it in the jeep on the way to school but she clams up and sticks her thumb into her mouth and looks out of the window and Stiles drops the subject. They’re already pushing her to have a party she doesn’t really want to the recital can wait. Erica kisses his cheek and hops out of the car and Stiles watches her wander into the school grounds. He loves that girl like she was his own. 

His dad mentions the smile on his face too and mutters something about Stiles being worse when he’s in love than when he’s mourning a relationship and Stiles throws a wet sponge covered in dog hair at him. 

The smile grows bigger when he sees Derek in the kennels, t-shirt shoved into his back pocket, wrench in hand scratching the back of his head as he looks at the old tractor that Stiles and Scott tried to get working years ago. 

“I don’t think this is going to work,” Stiles says, glass of Melissa’s lemonade in his hand and Derek spins around, a look of worry on his face. “You fixing the tractor. It’s not going to work.” Stiles grins and Derek glares playfully at him. 

“Don’t scare me like that,” Derek says, reaching out and taking the lemonade from Stiles’ hand and draining half of it. Stiles watches the line of his throat move as he swallows and feels his cheeks grow hot. 

“It’s been broken for years. Scott and I tried to fix it a while ago but no dice.” Derek raises an eyebrow at Stiles and hands him back the half empty glass. 

“You don’t have my touch,” Derek says and tugs Stiles closer to steal a kiss that’s as lewd as it is quick. There’s a smudge of dirt on Derek’s nose and Stiles brushes it with the pad of his thumb. 

“Is it possible for an employee to sexually harass an employer?” He muses and Derek lets out a laugh. 

“You love it.” 

“I love you,” he says without thinking and Derek looks like he’s about to choke. Stiles grimaces. “Oh fuck, I’m…wow…way to go Stiles.” 

“I love you too,” Derek says and Stiles stares at him. He sees nothing in Derek’s face except honesty, pure and open and he smiles slowly. He puts the glass down on the floor and takes the wrench from Derek’s hand, he puts that next to the glass and pulls Derek close. 

“I wish we weren’t at work right now,” he says between kisses and Derek walks him backwards until he’s caught between the old tractor and Derek’s body. 

“You’re the boss,” he says and Stiles curls his fingers around Derek’s ridiculous biceps. 

“Doesn’t mean I can get caught having sex on a tractor,” he says and Derek’s playful grin sobers and he cups his hands around Stiles’ face. 

“I do, by the way, love you,” he says and kisses Stiles slow and deep until Stiles is breathless and half hard in his jeans. “Ok…” he pulls away and runs his hands through his hair and clears his throat. 

Stiles lets out a shaky sigh and grins. 

“Ok, I’ll see you later. Allison’s coming round for dinner.” 

“It’s Stew Day,” Derek says and Stiles nods, pleased that Derek has seemed to slip into his life so easily, that Derek knows about Stew Days and how he loves Erica almost as much as Stiles does. 

“Beef.” He says, his voice a little strained through the rush of emotion he feels for the half naked man in front of him. 

“Look forward to it.” 

…

Stiles is out when Derek drops the keys back into the big house. The covers over half of the furniture look eerie as the sunlight streams through the windows and Derek wonders what is under those sheets. He wants to ask Stiles, wants to get Stiles talking but he doesn’t push. 

He hooks the keys onto the hook and wanders through the piles of sheet covered furniture. His fingers trace over the vague shape of a piano and the tips itch to play it. He pulls the sheet away and opens the lid. The keys are a little out of tune but it fills the still room with the resonating note of Middle C. Derek smiles to himself a little and pulls out the piano stool. Sitting down in front of the piano, he runs his fingers over the yellowing keys and plays a few cords before the long forgotten sheet music fills his mind and floats in front of his eyes. _Beethoven’s Piano Sonata in C Minor, Number 14_ fills the room with a slightly wavering sound, Derek’s fingers out of practice but the haunting notes sound almost as good as possible. 

“I didn’t know you played,” Derek doesn’t jump but his heart does as Stiles slides onto the piano stool next to him. Derek wants to kiss him, wants to pull him close and fuck him on the piano but Erica looks at him like he’s the second coming and Stiles is smiling slightly. There’s something like hurt behind him smile though and Derek flinches internally as he closes the lid to the piano and stands up. 

“Sorry I uh…” He starts and Stiles pushes Erica towards the kitchen. He then looks back at Derek and stalks towards him. 

“Don’t…I didn’t realise I missed the sound of it until now,” Stiles says and then smiles for real. “Mum used to play.” Derek cups his hands around Stiles’ face and pulls him close. 

“It needs a tune,” he says and Stiles laughs into Derek’s mouth. 

“You’re handsy,” Stiles replies as Derek slides his hands up Stiles’ back, “I’m sure you can manage.” 

“Yes Sir,” Derek mutters and he sees the grin in Stiles’ eyes sober suddenly. 

“I like you playing it,” he says and pushes Derek away. “In fact,” he says, holding up a finger and his eyes crinkling with mirth again. He reaches behind him and pulls the sheet the whole way off the piano. Dust flies and swirls on the floor, catches the light and Stiles laughs as he coughs. “Erica!” 

Erica appears in the doorway and grins at them both and joins Stiles in pulling the sheets off the covered furniture. Armchairs and a chaise longue, tables, book cases full of books all appear from under the sheets and Stiles grins at the pile of dusty sheets when he’s finished. 

Erica sits crosslegged on the floor and draws circles into the dust as Stiles pushes an armchair across the wooden floor boards. 

“That looks better,” Derek says and Stiles wipes his dusty hands on his jeans. 

“That _feels_ better,” he says and tugs Derek close and drops a kiss to his lips. “This has all been under those sheets for too long and you,” he pokes Derek playfully in the chest, “you started to pull them away.” 

“Why do I get the feeling we’re talking about more than the furniture?” Derek says and Stiles wrinkles his nose and sneezes once. He looks back at Derek with a smile and a soft hand on Derek’s face. 

“I love you.” 

“Derek can you play something?” Erica asks from the floor and looks up at him with eyes that make Derek want to melt. 

“Those eyes are dangerous,” he says and Stiles snorts as he collapses into the nearest armchair. 

“She learnt that from her mom and dad,” Stiles says and a shadow passes across his face at the mention of Scott. 

“I’ll only play if you play with me,” he says and Erica wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “Come on…” he sits at the piano and starts playing _Chopsticks_. He plays it wrong a couple of times, hitting the wrong keys with his fingers until Erica sighs as dramatically as a five year old can and pushes herself to her feet. 

“You’re playing it all wrong,” she says and climbs up onto the piano stool next to him. Derek moves to the side and lets her in and Erica puts her tiny fingers to the keys. She plays the top part almost expertly for a five year old and Derek starts in on the bottom part. Erica only stumbles once and Derek nudges her shoulder gently as he crosses hands with her on the keys. 

He catches Stiles’ gaze and winks at him but Stiles’ face isn’t one of amusement, it’s one of pure love for both of the people sitting in front of him and it terrifies Derek because he has no idea how to tell Stiles the real reason he came here. 

…

Stiles feels a lump grow in his throat as he looks at Erica and Derek playing the piano. Derek’s fingers are elegant, belying the fact that he uses his hands to work and Erica’s are tiny next to his but they play together like they were meant to and Stiles had no idea Erica was that good. 

Derek catches his gaze and something flickers across his face until Stiles smiles and Derek smiles right back. Erica laughs as Derek nudges at her shoulder again and her fingers stumble over the keys. She glares at Derek and Derek holds his hands up.

“Sorry,” he says with a laugh and Erica holds up a finger at him. 

“You will be,” she warns and Stiles laughs at them both. 

“Now, now, play nice both of you,” he says and Derek and Erica turn towards him and both point at the other. 

“He started it,” Erica says at the same time Derek says “She started it.” 

“I’m going to get the stew going, you two be nice and carry on playing…” Stiles sweeps his hands in a dramatic gesture at the piano and backs out of the room with a grin at them. He hears Erica tell Derek to play properly and then the tune picks up again. 

Allison is in the kitchen when Stiles gets there. 

“She’s playing,” he says and Allison bites on her bottom lip like she’s trying to stop crying. “Alli.” 

Allison closes her eyes and lets Stiles pull her into a hug. He feels her shaky in-take of breath and runs his hand over her hair. 

“Where the hell did Derek come from?” 

…

Allison and Erica are gone. Allison had put her hands around Derek’s face and breathed “thank you” at him before shuffling a sleepy Erica into the car. Derek’s now got his arms around Stiles as Stiles tries to wash up the dishes. Derek’s hand slide, slick with soapy water, down Stiles’ arms and curl their fingers together. 

“I’m trying to wash,” Stiles says and Derek hums into his neck. 

“Sure you are,” Derek replies, his voice muffled by Stiles’ skin and Stiles uncurls their fingers but let’s Derek keep his fingers curled around Stiles’ wrists. Stiles dumps the stew pot, now washed, into the drainer and half turns in Derek’s grip. His own arms are pinned to his side with Derek’s fingers still around his wrists. It’s uncomfortable but he gets to see the look in Derek’s eyes. Derek lets go of his wrists, but before Stiles can move his arms around him, Derek has his hands pinned slightly more comfortably behind him, between the sink and his own body. Stiles raises one eyebrow and Derek grins at him before kissing him slowly. “Why cant I get enough of you?” Derek asks with his lips moving gently against Stiles’. 

“Because I’m irresistible.” Stiles says and then lets out a groan as Derek bites down on his bottom lip. 

“Don’t move,” Derek says, giving his wrists a quick squeeze before dropping to his knees in front of Stiles in a fluid way that makes the breath in Stiles’ chest freeze. Derek lifts Stiles’ t-shirt and presses his lips to the line of skin that he reveals slowly, his teeth scraping gently at the skin just about Stiles’ belt. 

“Fuck,” Stiles mutters and Derek lets out a chuckle and thugs Stiles’ belt undone. His jeans get lowered down his thighs and Derek’s fingernails follow in a way that makes Stiles’ skin feel like its on fire. 

Derek teases, with soft breaths against Stiles’ dick, and fingers pressing into spots on Stiles’ hips that he had no idea where erogenous zones. He teases until Stiles is babbling, practically begging with his fingers gripped tight enough to hurt against the counter. Derek licks up the length of his dick and swallows him down and Stiles groans and his fingers itch to reach out and curl into Derek’s hair. 

It doesn’t take long, Derek’s a master at this and Stiles is stuck between the feeling that he wants this to last forever, and he wants to come now, _dammit_. Derek swallows around him, hums and twists his fingers around the base of Stiles’ dick and Stiles comes down the back of his throat with Derek’s name strangled around his tongue. 

Stiles wants to sink to his knees and curl himself around Derek and stay here, on the kitchen floor forever. But he curls his fingers under Derek’s chin and tips his head up. He runs a thumb across Derek’s cheekbone. 

“Let’s go to bed.” Derek’s smile is enough to make Stiles’ heart jump in his chest. 

…

Matt’s scowling at his beer when Jackson slides into a seat next to him. 

“Hear you’ve been asking about that new guy working at the Stilinski’s?” Jackson says nodding at the bar tender who slides a beer into Jackson’s hand with practised grace. 

“Yeah?” Matt asks, lifting his gaze from the bottle to Jackson’s face. They’ve never been friends, but more than once they’ve been mutually beneficial to each other. 

“He came in here looking for Stiles, flashing a picture around.” Jackson shrugs and Matt’s blood boils in his veins. That guy thinks he has the right to waltz into his town and steal Stiles from him. 

“A picture? From where?” Jackson shrugs again and slides off the bar stool. 

“Don’t know, don’t care, how’s that for an answer?” Jackson says and wanders off in search of someone else to scam out of money on a pool game. 

Matt spends the next few hours nursing numerous beers as he plots a way to get Derek out of his and Stiles’ lives forever.


End file.
